


Turning Point

by NollieBanner



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, I got Garrett's partner's name from 616, Mention of Victoria Hand, OMFG WRITING THIS SMASHED MY FEELS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:23:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NollieBanner/pseuds/NollieBanner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the tail end of a mission, Agent Garrett was fragged by an IED outside Sarajevo...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Point

**Author's Note:**

> I think I might be the only person who doesn't think John Garrett is the absolute scum of the Earth. (But don't think for a second I'm going to stand here and excuse his actions.) Anyway. I wanted to flesh out the story Garrett told Ward about what led to his turning his loyalties to Hydra. Please be kind, I have never uploaded any of my fics before, ever. Also, there's language and a bit of violence here.

Another routine assignment: Go in undercover, infiltrate, gather intel, get out, report to HQ. Wait for extraction. Agents Garrett and Davidson had done just that, yet again, but this time in Sarajevo. It hadn't even been a mission that would make a good story later. As they hiked, Garrett found himself hoping this safehouse had decent liquor....

"Fifty bucks says SHIELD leaves us to rot in that damn safehouse for at least a week," Davidson said wryly, his mouth quirking into a cynical grin. "All because of your permanent stay at the very top of Victoria Hand's shit list."

Garrett would have smirked, made some sort of snide remark about 'Vic' to his longtime friend. He would have readily taken the bet, too — with enough confidence to raise the stakes. But the IED silenced him. "Fuck!" Garrett reflexively yelled as he hit the dirt. When the dust and shrapnel cleared, he looked for his partner. Tom had been behind him. He still was, in fact. Garrett fought the urge to gag at the sickening sight of what remained of Agent Thomas Davidson. He was half gone, blown eerily clean in two. 

For a moment, Garrett paused...out of respect for the friend he'd known since they were freshly recruited probies making Nick Fury's life a living hell. The adrenaline rush had subsided, and a surge of intense pain suddenly shot through Garrett's gut. Until now, he was sure he was okay, that he'd cheated death. But maybe he hadn't, because something just wasn't right. Slowly, Garrett propped himself up against the survival pack he had on his back, sliding his arms free from the straps. Every movement, no matter how subtle, seemed to make the pain worse. He looked down at himself, only to see blood pouring from the gaping hole that was once his left side. He tried applying pressure to the deepest wound, but his effort was futile as blood was seeping between his fingers. He was already beginning to feel lightheaded.

Garrett's suddenly blurred vision began to swim as he found his radio. By the time he had tuned it to SHIELD's emergency frequency — the one that connected directly to the Hub — he was starting to see double. "This is Garrett, do you copy?" he managed to say.

"Go ahead, Agent," the distant voice replied. Garrett thought it might have been Hand, but the static, coupled with his current state, made this hard...and pointless...to discern.

"Mayday," he coughed out, nearly choking on the blood that was too quickly welling up in the back of his throat. "Request med-evac at my location...."

"Negative, Agent. Extraction protocol at —"

Garrett inclined his head to spit a mouthful of blood onto the dirt in front of him. Doing so made him dizzy enough that he had to slam his eyes shut just to gather himself. "HQ, I'm hurt pretty damn badly here.... Davidson didn't make it...."

"You are ordered to report to the nearest safehouse for extraction. Extraction protocol at your location will compromise other agents assigned in the area."

Garrett glanced at his injuries, at the rapidly expanding pool of blood to his left. "I'm not gonna be able to make it to the safehouse," he reported matter-of-factly. 

"Extraction will occur —"

"Maybe you didn't fucking hear me the first time, HQ. I'm fucking bleeding out here."

"Dispatching med-evac will compromise your mission, Agent Garrett."

Garrett leaned his head back and huffed out a breath, trying his best to ignore the fact that this action made the already excruciating pain in his gut even worse. SHIELD — the organization he had declared unswerving loyalty to, dedicated his life to, nearly died for on numerous occasions — was not going to lift one damn finger to help him. "Go to hell, bitch," he spat, aggressively switching off the radio.

John Garrett was on his own. As he sat there in a pool of his own blood, blackness pervading his field of vision, fighting off a sudden overwhelming urge to just close his eyes and sleep for a while, John came to the bitter realization that those assholes at HQ didn't give one fuck about him. He had been more loyal to SHIELD all these years than they would ever be to him. He was simply a means to their ends. He was an expendable tool; whether he lived to be a hundred or died right here was of zero consequence to them. And hell if John was going to give SHIELD that kind of satisfaction. He was going to take matters into his own two hands and figure out a way to live. John swore to himself that, if he survived this, if somehow he got out of here, he would have his revenge. He was going to watch SHIELD burn.

John slammed the radio still in his hand to the ground with such a fit of primal rage that he heard the plastic casing crack. Now surging with adrenaline, he began digging through his survival pack for something — anything — he could use to patch himself up. All he could find was a roll of duct tape. John needed to inspect his injuries more closely before doing anything more, so he slowly moved his hand away from the deep wound he had been holding pressure over. Blood spurted from a severed artery, and his intestines were completely exposed. He winced, shutting his eyes as he shoved his organs back inside his body and, as quickly as he was able to bring himself to move, closed and bound his wounds tight with the duct tape. John could hardly breathe, but at least he wasn't bleeding anymore. And he had the rage, the adrenaline, the overwhelming thirst for revenge on SHIELD keeping him from falling asleep.

John picked a direction and crawled, because he was going to get the fuck out of here or die trying. When Cybertek — Hydra — found him, he was unconscious. But not dead.


End file.
